The Worst Timing
by HermanTumbleweed
Summary: One-shot. What if Harry Potter gave up on life just before receiving his Hogwarts Letter. What would happen to him and what would the repercussions be. Character DEATHS, Dark theme, language.


The Worst Timing

by

Herman Tumbleweed

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter, associated characters, story settings, and situations are the Property of Joanne K Rowling and assorted corporate entities. No copyright infringement is intended, and no remuneration is being received for this. It is my hobby, nothing more.

**A/N:** A lot darker and more angst filled than my normal fare. Caution is advised due to character deaths.

0o0o0o0o0o0

Harry Potter worked like a slave all day in the hot sun, making the front and back gardens as perfect as any ten year old could. Actually he would be eleven in about a week, but he'd not given his birthday much more thought than his relatives did, and they gave it none whatsoever. It didn't do to have hopes and dreams in his little corner of the world.

He finished dumping the assorted clippings into the bin, then hauled it to the kerb for the next day's pickup. As he performed this one more mindless task for his horrid relatives he reflected for a few moments on all the dreams he'd had over the years of someone coming to rescue him… a long lost relative of some sort. It had never happened, therefore he knew it did no good to dream.

When it had all gotten too much a few times, he'd tried to get some sort of attention from the school over his problems at home, but that had come to nothing but more abuse. For some reason the reports always seemed to get lost and all he got for his efforts each time was two or more weeks of daily beatings, more work, and no food, despite having to cook for his "family" nearly every day.

Breakfast was almost always his responsibility and, when his aunt decreed it, occasional other meals as well. He'd gotten to be a rather good cook over time, and that was not to mention his additional skills in the gardens and whatnot. He'd decided that, if nothing else, he could become a domestic in some capacity when he finished school. It was a sure thing that since he had to do poorly in school so he didn't outshine Dudley the Dickhead he'd never get into University.

He was to start at Stonewall in another month or so, and was only looking forward to it because Dudley would be at Smeltings. However, he also knew that most of the rest of the pig-in-a-wig's gang would be at Stonewall with him, so he'd still not have any friends. That Dudley would make sure of it, he had no doubt.

Returning to the back garden, he put up his tools in the shed, absently noting he'd need to paint it again soon. It was starting to fade slightly and that would never do. He was sure that with all the myriad coats of paint on the building it would outlast the house because the paint would not allow it to fall down – ever. He snickered grimly at the thought. There was no real mirth left in the young boy, his aunt and uncle had made sure of that as well.

As he cleaned up with the hosepipe, taking a long drink of water, he wondered what he had to look forward to in his life. Even when he was able to leave the dratted Dursley household – kicked out seemed more like it – he knew he would have a hard time ever making his way in life. He had no hope of ever being more than a drudge labourer. That notion had been beaten into him over the years as they also tried to beat **It** out of him, whatever **It** was. He'd not a clue on that; didn't care any longer either. That he was able to consider his long term prospects at this young age might have seemed strange to most, but Harry was far from normal. His outlook on life was what could accurately be described as the crappiest on the face of the Earth.

In point of fact, Harry had almost no curiosity left, especially about **It**. Oh he would get slightly interested when the teachers started on a new module, but as soon as he had the basic concept in mind, he lost interest because he knew he dare not bring home anything which smacked of good study habits. Dudley didn't study, ergo, Harry didn't study. It wasn't worth the effort, nor was it worth getting a beating over. He'd long ago learned that he got enough beatings as it was without earning more just for doing as the teachers wanted. He suspected that if his aunt and uncle could have gotten away with it he would not have been allowed to go to school at all.

A few times Harry had seemed to cause rather odd things to occur, like his teacher's wig turning blue or winding up on the cafeteria roof, which had always resulted in beatings, being locked in his cupboard, and not getting food for at least two days and up to as many as ten. Last month he'd created the worst time yet for himself, though he still didn't know how. He'd been mortified when the glass disappeared from in front of the large snake and Dud and Piers got the shit scared out of them. He knew before his Uncle's florid, angry face came into view what the result would be. It had been the usual daily beatings, not eating at all for a week, and then getting a bare minimum of food for another two weeks after that. He found he could get quite full on a piece of dry bread, a lump of cheese, and a glass of water. However, it usually made him even more constipated and his belly ache worse than normal.

The week before, his aunt had used more of Dudley's old clothes to dye for Harry's school uniforms. He was resigned to wearing what would undoubtedly look like wrinkled elephant skin to school this autumn. While Dudley always got new clothes whenever he wanted, Harry never did. Instead he got the worst of Dud's cast offs, the better ones going to the church jumble sale. Harry was often teased at school for the things he wore, and the taped up shoes and glasses, and his messy hair, and the fact that he was almost never picked for sport teams. No one ever wanted to willingly associate with him. Dudley constantly bullied the others out of that notion.  The only times he lined up for something like that now was when one of the teachers or playground monitors forced him to. Why bring humiliation on himself if he could avoid it?

That night, after he'd washed the dishes and whatnot from supper, Harry was scrubbing the kitchen when his uncle came in and tripped over the mop bucket. That the man was half pissed didn't enter into the equation, as far as the senior fat bully of the house was concerned. Harry had paid a dear price for doing what he'd been forced to do every night for as long as he could recall. He'd been beaten savagely, then made to finish cleaning up the kitchen, which now included mopping up some of his own blood.

As soon as he finished scrubbing and walked down the hall to see if his aunt or uncle had any further chores for him he was tripped, and as he landed felt his nose break. On hearing the commotion, his aunt came into the front hall and let out a banshee-like screech at the blood dripping on her freshly waxed hardwood, while Harry sat there trying to staunch the flow of blood with his shirt. Even through his aunt's extremely loud remonstrances he could hear Dudley snickering off to the side.

In moments his uncle thundered down from upstairs where he'd been doing who knows what, and immediately became purple in the face at what the "Freak" had done this time. His foot had connected with Harry's middle as the boy tried to stand, a number of other kicks had connected with his belly and ribs before he was roughly tossed into his cupboard. Harry passed out from the pain.

When he awoke an indeterminate time later, Harry could hardly move. He found that he'd vomited at least once and had soiled himself both front and back. He also found he needed to use the bathroom again, but that his door was firmly bolted. He knew there would be another beating in the morning, but could not hold it even five minutes and was amazed that the smell could get even worse in his confined space. He thought it smelled like old blood.

As time went on, he just wanted to die, the pain in his chest and belly growing worse and worse. He could see through a small crack at the door's edge that it was growing light in the lounge, though it had to be very early. Lying on his thin mattress on a too small cot, and in feverish pain, the young boy just gave up. He knew he was probably going to die if he didn't get to hospital soon. One single thought came to mind as darkness closed in around his vision signalling he was about to pass out again. With all of his being he wanted to make the Dursleys pay for what they had done to him for so long. With a fervour he didn't know he still possessed, he wished that somehow the whole damn house would collapse. Maybe that would show the bastards.

Just as the darkness closed in around him with its pain free bliss, he was shocked by a brilliant white light that seemed to emanate from him. Immediately, the pain and blood loss overcame him and he lost consciousness for the last time.

0o0o0o0o0o0

At five forty-three a.m. on 24 July, 1991 an owl flew low over Little Whinging, Surrey in a straight line for a house on the street known as Privet Drive. However, when the owl was just a few blocks away from his destination there was a huge bright white burst of magic in the exact direction he was headed. This was followed instantly by a thunderous explosion and then the crash of debris falling. When the bird arrived over its destination it found a smoking pile of rubble where the house it had been sent to should have been. The bird was at a loss, as this was his first delivery for Hogwarts. He orbited the house, or what was left of it, a couple of times as people flew out of the neighbouring ones, but then followed his instructions and dropped the letter near where the front door had been. In a few hours he was back in the owlery at Hogwarts for a well deserved rest.

0o0o0o0o0o0

The area surrounding Privet Drive was in quite an uproar. First, residents came piling from their homes to determine what the bloody hell had happened, then shortly after that police, ambulances, and the fire brigade all arrived. It took the fire and rescue teams several hours to dig through the debris, but in the end they removed two people on stretchers and two body bags. In their haste to quell the possibility of fire and to rescue anyone who might be alive, the letter addressed in green ink and with a wax seal containing a strange crest was trampled on, soaked, and mostly obliterated. In a few hours things died down, though the gossip continued unabated for weeks.

No one paid any mind to an elderly woman as she shuffled from the scene that morning clutching her chest. She wouldn't be found for several days until a neighbour noticed some odd things on Wisteria Walk. A few newspapers had piled up for on the front stoop, and the woman's cats seemed to be in a right state. The incensed busy-body called the Dog Warden's office thinking the batty old woman had gone off on holiday and forgot to have someone feed the poor things. It was the responding warden and a police officer he called in who discovered her body.

A few weeks later a demolitions crew showed up one day on Privet Drive to remove the debris from what had been number 4. The lot was largely scrubbed clean in only a day, leaving some forlorn hedges and a few relatively undamaged patches of lawn. A For Sale sign went up soon after. The odd letter was hauled off with the rest of the debris for disposal, not having been read by anyone.

0o0o0o0o0o0

Albus Dumbledore had just returned from his second holiday of the summer. He always took a week or so off shortly after the end of the spring term, then another couple of weeks around the end of July. When he left for the second time there had not been a response from Harry Potter. The headmaster was unworried, knowing that the Dursleys would gladly take the lad to Diagon Alley for his supplies.

During the summer, most of the staff took their meals either in their quarters or in the staff room, where the elves always provided a pleasant table setting for them. It was just too empty in the Great Hall to eat in there, and was unnecessary since they had no students to watch over. The headmaster was the first to arrive his first morning back, and Minerva came in shortly after. They exchanged pleasantries and she assumed her customary place at the opposite end of the table. She was immediately attended by a lively little elf who seemed to just adore the Deputy Headmistress. Albus was perusing his stack of Muggle newspapers which he'd retrieved from his post box the evening before, but he took a moment to chuckle over how the little female elf doted on his friend.

Once the elf had popped away back to the kitchen, Minerva cleared her throat catching his attention. When he looked up in question, she said, "Albus, we still have yet to receive a reply from Mr Potter. Do you think it would be wise for me to go and visit, just to make sure things are well there?"

Albus thought for a moment, then replied, "No, Minerva. I'm sure his family has taken care of things, though I doubt they would have thought to buy him an owl. Rest assured he'll show up at Kings Cross on time, so not to worry. I'm sure you have plenty to do otherwise. I'll contact Arabella in the next few days and have her check up on the lad."

Minerva nodded, but with a frown. She shook her head at how her old friend often left too many things like this to chance, especially where people were concerned. He seemed to play entirely too freely with the lives of others. She had a sad thought then at how she had encouraged him to demand a trial for Sirius Black ten years before. The whole thing had smelled entirely rotten to her feline nose when the man was sent to Azkaban for life without a trial. Albus had assured her he would look into it when things had settled a bit. When she'd asked several times after, he'd said it was being investigated, but kept putting her off until it finally slipped her mind. Now she had to wonder once again at how the man had handled that whole business. And that was not to mention his placing little Harry with those awful Muggles. Now if she asked after either situation he condescendingly told her all was as it should be.

Her tea came as she was thinking and she absently fixed a cup. Minutes later as she was sadly ruminating over the loss of friends and former students in the last war, her breakfast also arrived. She glanced up as Rolanda Hooch came in, and noticed Albus straighten out another Muggle newspaper as he picked up his tea to take a sip. An instant later he spewed the tea all over his paper and that end of the table and began coughing violently.

As Minerva began to rise, Poppy Pomfrey came in and immediately rushed to the old gent, cast a charm to determine the problem, then another to free up his breathing. Even after his breathing returned to normal he looked deathly white.

Poppy asked if he was feeling better and he absently waved her off with a very haunted look in his eyes. He was still staring in horror at the newspaper before him and seemed incapable of answering. The Healer cast a couple more charms on him, but shrugged her shoulders to the others murmuring that he seemed to be fine.

Minerva asked Albus what the problem was, but receiving no reply rose and walked to the other end of the table. She had to know just what in a Muggle newspaper could possibly have caused such a reaction in a man they knew to be virtually unflappable. In fact none of them could ever remember him being uncommunicative as he seemed to be now. Severus came in as Minerva picked up the paper and asked what was going on, but the others shushed him and indicated the deputy headmistress.

It only took a moment for Minerva to find the headline which had caused the old man to have such a violent reaction. She quickly perused it, gasped painfully, then shakily passed it over to Severus who had come up beside her. A sob in her voice, she asked him to read it, grabbed the nearest chair and fell blindly into it.

As the others looked strangely at the headmaster and deputy, Severus read aloud:

**Unexplained Explosion Rocks ****Surrey****, House Destroyed**

Little Whinging, _Reuters_

_Yesterday morning, three deaths were blamed on a massive explosion which destroyed a home, damaged several others, and threw this village southwest of __London__ into disarray. Arson investigators and police sources could give no immediate reason as to the cause of the disaster which completely destroyed the home at __4 Privet Drive__ and left one woman gravely injured in hospital._

_The woman and one child were pulled from the wreckage alive, although the child, a boy 11 years of age, later died in hospital. The sole survivor is reportedly in grave condition and not expected to live. A hospital spokeswoman would give no further information. The identities of the deceased and the injured woman were not given pending positive identification and notification of next of kin._

_Police Inspector Miles Avery commented at the scene, "One of the deaths appears to be suspicious, but I can say no more than that for now." The Inspector refused to give further details citing an investigation into the circumstances of this and the other deaths. Fire officials admitted to being stumped by the explosion as there didn't appear to be any good reason for it. They refused to speculate, citing their own investigation._

Severus stopped reading then, looking oddly at a very distraught deputy headmistress and a seemingly catatonic headmaster. He asked his friend as gently as any had ever heard him speak, "Albus, what does this mean?" The aged Grand Sorcerer didn't acknowledge him.

Minerva spoke then, almost too quietly for any of them to hear. "Harry Potter," was all she said for a moment, then she choked out, "that was where Harry Potter lived."

Filius Flitwick, who had come in as Snape started reading, gave a loud gasp at this pronouncement. He then rifled through the papers in front of the still unmoving headmaster and the others quickly helped to search them for more information, except the still very distraught Minerva and Albus. The former was crying silently, the latter still wholly unmoving.

It was Filius who found the first follow-up and read sadly to the others: _"An additional death has been attributed to the explosion reported to have occurred early yesterday in Little Whinging, __Surrey__. The woman pulled alive from the devastated home succumbed late yesterday to her injuries. She did not regain consciousness. She is identified as Mrs Petunia Anne Dursley, 33. The other deaths reported here yesterday have been confirmed to be her husband, Vernon Dursley (no middle name given), 35; their son Dudley Vernon Dursley, age 11, and the nephew and ward of Mrs Dursley, Harry James Potter, age 10._

Minerva began sobbing loudly. It was Poppy who, even though she too was stricken by the lad's death, kept searching a later edition and found another a follow-up.

She read aloud:

_Circumstance surrounding the tragic explosion in Little Whinging last week which claimed the lives of all four residents of the home at 4 Privet Drive, have proven to be even more mysterious. Fire officials have completed their investigation and could give no definitive cause._

_ Deputy Chief for Arson Investigation, Roland Rice, stated, "We believe it had to have been a gas explosion, though the normal indicators of such were absent. There was none of the normal charring one finds, nor was there any fire following the explosion. Explosive experts were consulted and tests concluded no explosives were used on the home, nor were any remnants of explosive devices found.  At this time it is being termed an accident until evidence to the contrary should be found. Frankly, ladies and gentlemen, we don't know and will likely never know what the true cause of this tragedy was."_

_However, upon inquiry into the police investigation it was revealed that the suspicious death has been ruled a homicide. The same Chief Inspector, Miles Avery, who commented previously on the case, stated, "Autopsy results and forensic evidence gathered at the scene have led us to conclude that the child identified as Harry James Potter was already deceased at the time of the explosion, though only by seconds. His body was not as badly damaged as the others in the explosion but he had received numerous injuries, apparently the previous evening. If not for those injuries he would likely have survived being as he was found on a small bed in the cupboard under the stairway."_

_He went on to say, "There was also evidence of long term neglect including that young Mr Potter was grossly undernourished and severely stunted in size for his age. His body exhibited considerable evidence of long term physical abuse as well. An investigation has begun into how this situation escaped the notice of school officials and the Department of Children's Services. We are, of course, looking into who perpetrated the violence against Mr Potter, but it is likely to have been someone else residing in the home._

Poppy stopped then as she too broke down sobbing. There was not a dry eye in the room, including those of the normally taciturn and callous potions master. With each article read, the old headmaster seemed to age more and withdraw further into himself. It was Severus who spoke, softly, but sarcastically, "Sounds as though young Mr Potter… got even with the Muggles before he died. Albus slumped limply in of his chair.

0o0o0o0o0o0

Minerva McGonagall was named Hogwarts' Headmistress before the start of term. Though she didn't really want the job, there was not time to search for any other suitable replacements. Dumbledore remained unresponsive to any stimulus. She was confirmed the permanent headmistress later that autumn, but served just five years before her retirement due to ill health. She had not been seen to smile once in those five years, even at her little friend Borkie the House Elf. The little creature asked to leave Hogwarts when the elderly witch retired, stating that Mistress Minnie needed someone to look after her. The former professor died rather young at age ninety-seven. Though many attended her funeral, no one could speak of having seen much of her following her retirement.

Albus Dumbledore never recovered, even after spending seven years on St. Mungo's long-term care ward. He was finally withdrawn from the facility and cared for by his younger brother Aberforth until his death two years later. Aberforth ran the Hog's Head Inn for many years after his brother's death, though he never told anyone what had happened to Albus. Very few were in on that secret. The "official" story was that the Chief Mugwump had suffered a severe stroke.

Severus Snape resigned at the end of the school year, disappeared, and was never seen in the UK again. He was rumoured to have moved to the Fiji Islands though former "associates" were never able to find him, even there.

The Malfoy family was devastated by an accident the following summer in which the son, Draco, collided head-on with a muggle helicopter at high speed while flying his new broom. The Nimbus 2001 he was riding was a gift that day from his father. Unfortunately, the machine mowed down the elder Malfoy as well when the mortally wounded pilot attempted to land the heavily damaged craft before passing out. Un-Lucky Lucius attempted to stop it, but the magic fried all electronic circuits in the machine making it suddenly uncontrollable.

A day after the funeral for her husband and son, Narcissa Malfoy, in a fit of rage at her deceased idiotic husband, attempted to destroy everything in the hidden space below the manor's drawing room. Her particularly nasty dark spell succeeded beyond her wildest dreams. The resulting explosion from the interaction and release of so much dark magic at once, a certain diary in particular, killed her instantly, destroyed the manor house, and gave news casters all over Britain a humorous story about fireworks to share with their viewers that evening.

Dobby the house elf was ecstatic when a sock fell on him during the "fireworks" where he was working in the rear garden. He claimed to his dying day that the Mistress had given him clothing when she died, setting him free. Headmistress McGonagall gladly employed him at Hogwarts thereafter, as a free elf, and he received one galleon and a day off each month.

Hermione Granger attended one year at Hogwarts, but was extremely disillusioned by the treatment she received from not only the pureblood supremacists, but her housemates as well. One Ronald Weasley was cited as the instigator of most of her woes when the young lass sent a withdrawal letter to the headmistress the following summer. She later graduated with honours from Cambridge, earned her MD a few years later, and became a medical researcher for a prestigious firm in Edinburgh. Her work was instrumental some years later in finding the link between all cancers which in time led to a relatively simple cure.

The Weasley family went merrily on its way under Molly Weasley's child-rearing-through-fear-and-intimidation program. One by one the older children distanced themselves as far from home as possible, or by twos in the case of the twins. George and Fred eventually opened their first store in Hogsmeade and soon after, a branch in Diagon Alley as well. They claimed to be too busy most of the time to apparate home for visits, keeping to about once a month.

During the summer before she started Hogwarts, Ginny was able to talk her mother into buying her a cat, which the shopkeeper was more than happy to be rid of and thus sold him for a few sickles. Ron Weasley's pet rat, Scabbers, met his demise when the part kneazle, Crookshanks, ate him shortly after the start of the school term.

Ron's second year was quite unpleasant as the Headmistress had him in detention two days a week because he'd been so unpleasant to the "know-it-all mudblood" during first year. A third day of detention was added part way through the first term when he was found to be behaving just as boorishly to his younger sister. All the detentions lasted the rest of the year, and he became well acquainted with Mr Filch.

Neither Ron nor Ginny finished Hogwarts. Ron failed out in his sixth year and worked drudge labour all over England for his rest of his life. He married a few years later when his girlfriend turned up pregnant after only a month. Thick Ron never put two and two together when the baby was born after only six months and only one of his other children looked at all like him. Ginny became pregnant her sixth year and was forced to marry the father, Seamus Finnegan. They moved to his home in Ireland since he'd finished school the day before the wedding, during which Molly held her wand on the young wizard the whole time.

A certain evil entity in Albania was never returned to the body it craved, and was sure it would soon have, as there was never anyone it could terrorize into performing the necessary magic. It did possess numerous people over the years, but all went insane within days or managed to get themselves killed in odd ways.

One by one its Horcruxes were destroyed. The ring melted in a fire started by some boys playing near the old Gaunt shanty. Likewise, the diadem was destroyed when a drunken Divination Professor was stashing her sherry bottles in the Room of Requirement. Having decided to further hide the evidence she attempted to melt the bottles with a glass blower's spell she thought she knew. The huge magical fire had to be contained and extinguished by the house elves. She perished in the fire, though no one admitted to missing her for several months.

The locket met its fate when Kreacher, in his madness, opened it with his magic which reacted strongly to the Horcrux magic and other enchantments. The resulting magical detonation vaporized Kreacher and the portrait of the final Black matriarch, after which the house fell in on itself due to the extreme infestation of so many magical parasites.

Hufflepuff's cup was rediscovered many years later when a distant relative, who abhorred dark magic, inherited the Lestrange vault. When he learned the cup had extremely strong dark enchantments on it the wizard gave it to the Ministry where it wound up in the Department of Mysteries. Two researchers and many other people, including the most corrupt minister in history, Percy Ignatius Weasley, died when said researchers cast a new spell they had devised to discover its secrets. The resulting explosion caused the entire underground Ministry building to collapse and bring down the twelve story office building above it. Twenty-three Muggles perished along with forty-six witches and wizards. Fortunately this happened on a Saturday or the loss of life would have been much greater.

With the destruction of the final Horcrux the entity in Albania faded from existence. That area of the forest took many years to recover from the evil it harboured for so long, but eventually it was a pleasant place once again.

Remus Lupin was killed three years after Harry when he attacked Fenrir Greyback on a full moon night. The latter also died moments later from blood loss, his jugular vein having been slashed by Lupin's death throws.

Sirius Black died in his cell at Azkaban prison some 13 years after Harry. No one heard his final words of, "I'm so sorry I failed you, Harry. Please forgive me, James and Lily".

End

**A/N:** I know this is not what many have come to expect in my stories, but I hope you enjoyed it regardless. I was pretty down when I started this one day, and I can do depressed better than most. Mostly I just wanted to stretch my writing ability in the opposite direction from normal. Thanks for reading. Flames and raging infernos will be used to barbecue ham steaks, pork chops, and this really nice roast the better half bought the other day.


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